


See or Seem

by seraphicrose



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphicrose/pseuds/seraphicrose
Summary: Heather is fifteen and she dreams.
Kudos: 5





	See or Seem

Heather is fifteen and she dreams.

Heather is fifteen and she dreams she is a girl with rich brown hair and dark eyes, and she is full of rage and pain she does not understand in some ways and does in others.

She dreams she has a knife in her hand, simple and plain, something she has used in the kitchen a hundred times. She dreams that she stabs a man that should have cherished and protected her, but didn't. She dreams of killing a younger man, that looks like her. The resentment she feels is so strong it makes her teeth ache, a sense of betrayal stronger than anything she thinks she has ever experienced. And yet it seems familiar.  
She dreams of staring at her hands, red and redder, and when she rushes to the door and leaves it's like willingly walking into a fire.

She contemplates telling her father about it but decides against it. 

A few weeks later, Heather dreams again.

This time she is a young girl of maybe eight, blonde and bright-eyed, but jaded to the ways of the world. She dreams she gets on a bus and somehow makes her way to a place on a lake, so painfully familiar that upon waking she will decide to forget all about the dream.

Heather doesn't dream about the girl again for some time, until she does. 

She is sitting on a wall full of drawings, childlike and yet sinister. There is a man talking to her, but she can't make out his face. It is shrouded in a thick mist and shadows, much like the rest of what she sees.

There are so many dreams, for a while, all veiled by a layer of mist and soft snow, accompanied by a taste of mildew and rot on her tongue when she wakes.

She dreams of drawing animals on fogged up windows, she dreams of dark staircases on fire.  
She dreams, and dreams, until she is the little girl again, looking at the face of a blonde policewoman, softened by age and yet hardened by something else, picking her up at an old gas station.

The dreams stop after that, but Heather is left with a strange feeling of emptiness and foreboding.


End file.
